My Lady Smiles Poem by Roy Ballard

My lady's frown is like a day in June
which should of all the year be full of light
but all is shadowless and dim at noon
for grey skies dispossess its natural right.
Then through the leaden cloud a flare of gold
dives down from heaven like a bird of prey
and turns to buttercup and marigold
the mildewed petals of the dingy day.
Upon her smile the damps and frets are fled
to join the bats in their perpetual dark
and all the carpets of the earth are spread
to catch the colours of the rainbow's arc;
or am I cloistered in an eagle's clutch
of nestled eggs? Or talons? Something such!